Krenzik's War II Part 5
by TheManipulator
Summary: Fisk drops the hammer on Phelan and Jay is caught in the middle, trying to protect his woman, his knuckledraggers and hope turning on his benevolent despot doesn't destroy it all.


Krenzik's War II: Part 5

Author: Manipulator

Rating: T

Word Count:

Spoilers: "Epiphanies, Black Market"

Disclaimer: Battlestar Galactica is property of NBC/Universal

Notes: If you haven't read "Krenzik's War" parts 1-8, "Shadows and Reflections" and the first four parts of "Krenzik's War II" you should go back and do that before reading this. Big props to ViperChickKaliyla who chipped in to give Diana Thalyka her voice, as well as Sabaceanbabe and MrushGDI for their careful betas.

I

I can't point to one single moment when the fabric of our tenuous existence began to fray. It wasn't when Diana lay curled up in my arms the day after the Daru Mozu disaster and told me that Roslin had suddenly recovered from terminal cancer—for no apparent reason. One could say it was the moment Phelan let a bunch of terrorists have military grade explosives as a means of strong-arm negotiation was the key sign. Nope. It wasn't then either. Maybe it was when we got a memo from Galactica saying that Pegasus would be handling dayside air traffic control. Fisk was not only a major component of distribution, but for all intents and purposes, he controlled it.

Nobody ever sent a shuttle out until approved by Galactica. It wasn't any big deal, but all traffic was accounted for, so the C.A.P. didn't mistake you for a Cylon Raider and come bearing down on your ass. You just had to give your starting point, shuttle number, destination, and cargo. Most of the time, they didn't care. The admiral was more than happy to let us take care of ourselves as much as possible—especially since the president's near-death and subsequent remission. That was evident as we made more deals for basics like food, clothing, even what medicine we could snap up. Shuttle traffic was on the rise, and the heart of trade in the fleet. One word from the military let it be, or shut it down. Now, until 1900 hours, Fisk was "the word."

I stood before the dry-erase board in our breakroom, checking off Nick and Toby, who were finishing up a deal with the Piconese freighter _Greenleaf._ They were due back with some miscellaneous chipsets we needed to keep the Lady's main turbine going, as well as a couple reams of printer paper. The latter I know Diana would have killed for. I made a mental note to set some aside for her home office. A couple of days before, the Greenleaf's XO sent men to pick up our payment-- five cases of homebrew and four cartons of cigarettes. With their return, our day was done, and we could get down to business with Lt. Margaret Edmondson, who sat behind me, swirling a shot of Cascadden single malt up to the light in a rocks glass.

Galactica had a big op going down soon, and in her own words, "We need booze, lots of it. And I don't mean that rocket fuel you guys dump off to the pubs on Cloud Nine."

She eased back in her chair at the table, the sleeves of her flight suit tied around her waist. She stared a moment longer at the amber liquid, eyes filled with seeming adoration, as if a good memory had come unexpectedly.

"I knew something good had to come outta you getting your ass kicked on the Mazingo," she said, before knocking back her drink, lips grimacing at the burn down.

Networking happened in the oddest ways. Had the men aboard that mail carrier not thought I was a toaster agent and split my head open with a lead pipe, Maggie wouldn't have needed to drag me out holding them at gunpoint, and then take me to Galactica to get patched up. If not for that, we wouldn't be on the cusp of perhaps our most lucrative deal—a booze run to the battlestar _Galactica._

I raised an eyebrow, managing a grin even though getting eight stitches and a nasty concussion wasn't a memory I could recall without chills.

"Yeah, we'll see how good you and yours think it is after you make your offer," I said, changing the subject. "Your ECO docking your raptor 'fore?"

She nodded, pouring another half-shot from the bottle. "He's a nugget, but I think Banger can do it by himself." She nodded toward my empty glass. "You want one?"

"Yeah, hook me up." I sat down as she poured. I noticed how white her skin was in the acetylene light that washed down on us, how hard the lines were under her eyes. I figured I probably didn't look much better.

A shadow crept over the mood, so again changed the subject to something more constructive.

"So what's the deal with Pegasus?"

"Hmmm?"

Her eyes focused on the lighter as she lit up a smoke from the pack I left on the table. It wasn't exactly shattering news, but she was playing a little too dumb. I wondered then what else she might know about Fisk's activities and ours.

"You know, them controlling daytime traffic from now on."

She exhaled through her nose, letting the smoke form a cloud between us as she shook out the match.

"No big deal," she said, shrugging. "Pegasus has more raptors and the resources. The Admiral wants our attention turned to other things."

Contrived nonchalance. Fisk was sliding them goodies just like everybody else--probably for a good price. I wondered what she was doing here with a hot link to the top.

"Like that big op you can't tell me about."

She grinned a little and nodded as I knocked back my shot. I poured another, did the same for her. May as well cut to the chase.

"So why are you coming to me? I woulda thought the Beast had you covered."

She paused, as if it took a moment for her to remember who she was talking to, and what I could get her, and maybe what I should hear.

"Well," she began, eyes narrowing, words coming with utmost care. "There's a markup down the pipeline, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, I hear you. We can work out something you and yours might find equitable."

I liked the warm trail my drink left on the way down, decided to pour myself another. Fisk was squeezing his own. This was just another sign of the times. We could get more than ever for MRE's, tobacco, and antibiotics. There was even a market for burned music CD's ever since tunes joined politics once again on the wireless.

As everything I was thinking wrote itself in the smoke lingering between us, Maggie tilted her head, lips pursed.

"What?"

"You think we'll ever see Earth, Jay?"

I had a raptor pilot asking me—me—the big questions now. I just returned her stare, feeling my brow crease in a frown. Before I could offer some hamfisted response, Candi's boots clomping through the engine room to find us let me off the hook.

"Jay, Nick and Toby are back and—"

"And what?"

"And…uh, they didn't get the parts."

"What do you mean, they didn't get the parts?"

I sighed. I really would have rather stayed on the spot, getting drunk sad before dinner than deal with this shit

"Come on, Maggie. This sounds like your input might actually be a help."

She smiled a little, getting up. "I'll bring the bottle. Sounds like we'll need it."

II

Nick took a pull from the bottle as I tossed him my pack of smokes.

"Those frakkers punked us, man," Nick grumbled. "They wouldn't give us back the shit we gave 'em either."

Toby just sat quietly, taking a drink when Nick passed it to him. His mouth was a small, angry line under narrowed eyes. I didn't want to hear what came next. I hoped that he didn't let loose with too much. I could tell Maggie knew about the black market to a degree, but I didn't want any direct connections to be leaked to Bertrand or right to Phelan in the heat of anger.

"Just start at the beginning, okay? Did you talk to Greer, or their XO?"

Greer was the Greenleaf's maintenance foreman. He basically ran the little deals like I did, but had to clear the big stuff with their XO, an older woman named Holloway. The word was she made Milt Jeffers look like a barrel of laughs. I didn't relish a sitdown with these guys.

"Oh, yeah, we saw Greer," Toby muttered. "Never got to talk to Holloway, though. These two guys from Pegasus were there and…."

Toby trailed off, and eyes turned to Lt. Margaret Edmondson—call sign Racetrack. I couldn't let her know about Phelan and company, but we all seemed to know about Fisk.

Maggie filled the silence before it got too thick.

"What were their names?"

"The bigger dude," Nick replied. "The bigger dude was Gage. Other guy was Vireem."

Her eyes widened. "The Sunshine Boys."

We all leaned forward a little, encircling her. She looked as if she'd said a little too much, but had gone too far to turn back.

"Long story short," she sighed. "Some shit went down that day we almost got into it with Pegasus. Two of our guys were gonna get executed by Cain, and those two beat on 'em with soap in a towel. Word is they owe Fisk a favor, since they didn't get thrown in hack or executed. Cain would've done it, too. They got the nickname from our guys and it sort of stuck."

Then all eyes shifted to me. Pressure against my shoulders, deep in my gut. All I'd hoped for since I first met Fisk on the Prometheus was that we could stay the hell out of his way. So much for simple dreams.

I looked over to Toby. "What'd they say?"

He sneered as Nick passed him the bottle. "They said we don't have a deal on the Greenleaf or anywhere else. No way in hell were we getting clearance for incoming shipments, or offship runs—until Commander Fisk decided to come by and tell us new terms."

I sighed, rubbed the back of my neck. Maggie straightened up, undid the knot that held her sleeves around her waist, and eased her arms back into them.

"Lemme guess," she said. "You need a ride, right?"

Before I could reply, the intercom chimed.

"Jay Krenzik report to CiC. Krenzik to CiC," Jeffers beckoned.

"In a minute, yeah," I groaned. "One of you get Marty out of the FTL room, and wake up Ed," I told the others. "When I get back we're meeting at the main turbine."

III

Stengler and Jeffers merely confirmed everything the Sunshine Boys had told our guys on the Greenleaf. Three ships slated for work and trade the next day cancelled, as they received the same message we did—not cleared for flight until further notice. It was also made implicitly clear not to try to leave on Galactica's watch, as that would be documented in the logs. We were trapped on our own ride, caught in the middle between an apparent war escalating between Phelan and Pegasus.

Mitchell had already got on the wireless and managed to find out that some ships were cleared to move, as they seemingly had cut a new deal with Fisk.

"I'm waiting for Phelan or Bertrand to come calling," Captain Stengler told me, as he made another pot of coffee in the flight crew breakroom. I fought the urge to tell him to take it easy on the heaping scoops. There was no telling when we could get more.

"I know, Cap'n. We're, according to Zenar, a full third of their white liquor supply."

Jeffers just shook his head as Stengler continued. "Hopefully, he'll have the sense to reach an agreement, since no one in their right mind wants to take on a battlestar. Remember that when you go over to the Greenleaf. Be firm, but if it comes down to staring down Fisk's gang, you back off, you got me?"

"In other words," Jeffers interjected, "leave your sidearm here. That's an order."

Leave your sidearm. Dangerous times got a lot more dangerous, but I couldn't bring my gun. I left everyone else aboard the Lady, riding along with Racetrack and Banger, a fresh-faced nugget who was soon to get a more permanent post with the Pegasus flight wing. He looked back a little wide-eyed at Racetrack as she talked her way past Pegasus Control's rebuke.

"I read you, Pegasus, but this is with clearance from Admiral Adama's office. Tell 'em take any complaints to the Galactica CAG. Racetrack out."

Maggie grinned broadly as we disengaged from the Lady and eased up through the layers of ships. "Sometimes it's nice to have a little power on your side, eh?"

Banger shook his head. "We're not gonna get any shit from Apollo, are we?"

Maggie laughed as we drew within a click of our destination. "Trust me, Mike. He owes me a little favor. If we catch any shit, he'll let us off the hook for this one."

"So," I asked her, "what could the CAG and son of the Admiral owe you? You must really—"

"Hold it," Banger said, pointing toward the Greenleaf's cargo dock. "There's another raptor."

Racetrack looked back at me. "Looks like your buddies are still here. Greenleaf, Racetrack. Requesting permission to dock, " she said into her mic.

There was a pause, a long enough stretch of white noise that we could make one pass stem to stern.

"Racetrack, Greenleaf," a tinny male voice replied. "Please state your reason for boarding."

Maggie's tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth before she answered. "Greenleaf, Racetrack. I'm here with personnel from the Lady of Libron II, and I anticipate docking shortly so he can pick up a shipment from your cargo hold. Come back, Greenleaf."

She turned to me, smirking. "He's shitting a brick now. We'll be there in a sec—"

"Racetrack, Greenleaf, you are cleared to dock in bay three along the starboard bow."

Within minutes we had hard seal, and we were greeted by Josephs, a tall black man with closely cropped hair. He extended his hand to greet us, but I didn't shake, choosing to march right past him, with Racetrack right behind me.

"Where's Holloway?"

"She's, uh in the cockpit," he called after me. "She'll be right with you and—"

"I'll see her now," I said. "I'm a busy man."

I could feel my face growing hot. First, they welched on a deal, hiding behind two of Fisk's thugs. Then they had the nerve to jerk us around on docking. They wouldn't even give us back our five cases and the smokes. To top it all off, we would probably have to cave to the Pegasus and probably come out on the short end of a lopsided deal. We would have to make nice with Fisk, but I didn't want these guys thinking we had to roll for them.

"Slow down, Jay," Maggie told me. "I'm not your bodyguard, so don't start any shit, okay?"

"Fine," I grunted. Then she jerked me to a halt by my sleeve. By then Josephs had caught up with us.

She glared up at me, not my pal Maggie, but Lt. Margaret Edmonson. "I mean it. I'm not in the middle of this."

I sighed and nodded, even though everybody was getting sucked into this black hole created by Phelan and Jack Fisk. The middle was all that was left.

"Alright," Josephs interjected, hands up in placation. "I'm going to let you right in, okay, but you gotta keep a cool head in there. There's a lot going on right now and—"

"Just open the door, for frak's sake," I snapped. He shook his head and complied.

In a circle were the severely featured and silver haired Agnes Holloway, XO of the Greenleaf, then the Captain, Mitch Restic, as expected. I also wasn't surprised to see two specialists in olive drab. I was willing to bet a box of fine cigars that these two broad-shouldered goons were the Sunshine Boys. I wasn't ready for the slender blonde woman. She wore the gray pantsuit I had only recently dug up for her. Her eyes widened a little, but I had the feeling she had been expecting me.

"I'm glad you came by," Restic said. "Perhaps, now that Secretary Thalyka is here, we can resolve this like adults."

All I could do was meet Diana's gaze and say, "Oh, shit…"

There was the third uncomfortable silence I encountered that day. Diana was the one to pierce it, straightening, chin up. Behind her, always within arm's reach, was her bodyguard, Jason.

"Hello…Jay," she said, before turning to the rest of them. "May we go to your conference room, Captain Restic?" Her eyes returned to me. I knew when this was all over I'd have some serious explaining to do. "That way we can… all say what we have to and come to an equitable solution."

Everyone started toward the door, but I didn't move. This was total bullshit. I felt like we were being railroaded, and I had to keep my cool, since the Secretary of Intercolonial Relations (among other things) was running this, but she was also my girlfriend. I wondered if the Greenleaf braintrust didn't want her here to stave off any violence.

Then I was angry at the prospect that Holloway would suddenly take us for bruisers. The two knuckledraggers from the Beast eased by me, the taller one—Gage—meeting my gaze with a little sneer as he passed. Racetrack nudged my elbow and I lowered my ear to her lips.

"Stay cool, okay? I can take care of them. Just let this play out."

We were getting shut down by Fisk. Now it was rubbed in my face by the Sunshine Boys and all I could do was walk the walk as my girlfriend played mediator. This was such a sham. I wondered if Diana knew it.

Maggie poked me in the ribs with a finger. "Okay?"

I nodded, and trailed in behind the Greenleaf crew and Fisk's flunkies. If it was up to me, I would have just told them to go frak themselves and I'd be back on the raptor, with room to ponder what to do about getting slowly starved out.

IV

The "conference room" was really just the flight crew break area. Dominating the center of the room was an oblong table that had seen better days. In the corner was a now-empty candy machine, its guts protruding from a side panel. They must have ripped out its motherboard or another chipset for barter. Judging from the layer of dust on its top, it had been a while ago.

I took a deep breath. Diana radiated pomp and circumstance. This woman neatly laying out her manila folders and testing her ball point pen on a notepad (both procured by me or another member of my crew in our daily business) was the same person who had first set foot on the Lady, and had glared at me atop the steps of Colonial One for giving the Colonial Gang and "Scuttlebutt" something to chuckle about. After you've seen someone come, you can't think of her as a stranger anymore, but Diana, here and now, was pretty damn close.

Restic and Holloway took the two seats closest to Diana, who stood across from me; they did their best to look as upstanding as they could. I made a point to make eye contact, and not let them off the hook. The XO shifted, brushing at some phantom lint on her navy blue uniform shirt. I could figure out why they wanted to give an air of legitimacy to this by inviting Diana. Nick had probably started running his mouth on the way out, and they probably took some of his words to heart. No one ever said so, but I know we had a certain perceived hardness about us ever since we spaced Mangan. I'm sure that was a factor when wondering if they wanted to see Fisk's guard dogs in action or not.

I had to walk a high wire, and carefully choose what to say. Gage, Vireem, and the Greenleaf crew knew about Phelan, and probably Bertrand's involvement with him. Maggie knew about Fisk, but, as far as I could tell, didn't know who he was squeezing. As far as she was concerned, the black market wasn't a two-headed monster. Diana knew something screwy was going on. I would have to duck and dodge with my girlfriend, defending my business from her—and defend her from my business.

"So," she began, surveying everyone, brow creased. "From what I gather, this is a dispute over a barter agreement. So, Captain Restic, why am I here?"

Restic cleared his throat, eyes darting immediately to Diana as soon as they met my glare. "Two mechanics from the Lady of Libron II seem to think we had some sort of deal—"

"I know we had a deal, Restic," I interjected more sharply than I intended. "Last week you—"

"I did not ask for either side's story," Diana said, dropping a rhetorical hammer. I knew then that she had acquired definite teeth since that first time I saw her on the job. She straightened and stood firm with her arms crossed.

"I asked what this dispute was over, and why it was necessary for me to mediate what appears to be, if I'm not mistaken, a deal for homemade liquor."

Specialist Gage raised his hand, as if he was about to ask the teacher if he could use the hall pass. "Um, I think I can answer that, Madame Secretary. The crew of the Greenleaf didn't feel safe after one of their guys come over here expecting to get a bunch of parts. They thought somebody might get rough so they asked us to stay and they called you."

I could feel my lips twist into a bitter smile as I shook my head. They never wanted her here, but Fisk's goons were smart enough to know what advantage they had. They already had leverage, but they decided to step on our necks anyway. If Diana hadn't been here, maybe it would have turned ugly.

Diana's mouth was a thin line as she lowered her gaze on the knuckledraggers from the Beast. "Rest assured, Specialist…"

"Gage, Ma'am."

Frakking hell… he said "ma'am?" I should have brought my hip boots and a shovel. It was getting deep already.

"You are not a party to this dispute, specialist Gage, nor are you, specialist… Vireem, is it?"

Vireem nodded. "That's right—"

"So both of you—out. Now."

I almost laughed. The Sunshine Boys looked to one another as if she were speaking to them in tongues.

Vireem cleared his throat, his face beginning to redden. These guys were used to getting their way almost everywhere. "But, ma'am, we—"

"You heard the Secretary, Specialist," Maggie said, rocking back confidently in her seat, fixing an ice-cold glare on both of them. "Take it outside. That's an order."

Vireem's eyes widened, and his mouth opened, but Gage's hand on his forearm assured silence.

"Yes sir, Lieutenant," Gage muttered. They got up and shambled out, pausing to give me a dirty look all my own, before the door shut behind them.

Without missing a beat, Diana uncrossed her arms, and looked to Maggie. "The same goes for you too, Lieutenant. Out."

Maggie leaned forward, elbows on the table, the all-business glare still in her dark eyes. "Legally, you can't tell me to leave. Since your boss doesn't care about a civvie police force, I can, as a flight officer, ignore any directives from you, or anyone else in here if I feel that the situation is unsafe, which I do. I'll be staying."

The only sign of emotion I could see out of Diana was her ears turning red, and a slight tension in her neck.

"Your boss works for my boss, Lieutenant. And as you are not a party to this dispute, you have no legal right to be present at the negotiation. You also have no legal right to enforce law or to horn in on government matters, since the fleet is, if you recall, no longer under martial law. So yes, I CAN legally tell you to leave. Do not make me tell you again."

Maggie's expression hardened as she lowered her chin, looked at Diana through her eyebrows. "You got a problem with me doing my job, you pass it on to the Admiral's office."

Diana paused, and for a moment I thought she would just cut loose on her. Technically, Maggie was right, but Diana could press the issue. The big question was if she realized that they were both in a huge gray area.

"Lieutenant, the military serves the government of the Colonies. I can tell you to leave a private negotiation. This is not 'doing your job. ' Your job is to fly raptors. This is MY job. And if you do not leave, my security detail will escort you out."

Her security detail was still Jason, a dark-haired guy in his mid 20s who had some security experience before the bombs dropped. This would get ugly if he tried to carry out Diana's impending order. Maggie's jaw clenched, as Restic and Holloway looked like they wanted to crawl under the table. I shook my head, angry at them, at Fisk, at those smug motherfrakkers out in the hall, and mostly at the cold hard fact that my girlfriend was playing Colonial law ticky-tack at the worst time.

"Look," I said. "Bottom line. We had a deal with the Greenleaf. We want our frakking parts!"

That seemed to momentarily kick the whole stay-or-go debate to the back burner.

"As we were trying to say, Krenzik," Holloway began. "We did not officially sanction this sale and—"

It was my turn to get heated. I pushed my chair away from the table and stood.

"Bullshit, I—"

"Jay!"

Diana's voice echoed off the walls. She actually thought something was going to get done here. "That's enough," she continued. "You'll settle this dispute in a civilized manner. All of you," she said, eyes sliding from me to the XO to the Captain. Then she looked back at Maggie. "Rest assured, Lieutenant Edmondson, that I will be filing a complaint with Admiral Adama over your behavior."

I'd had enough of the red tape and hand wringing. I needed to get back to the Lady so we could decided on a plan of action , since we were about to be starved out in anticipation of Fisk's "deal."

"The hell with it," I said. "We both know the score, don't we, Holloway? You tell your greasemonkeys if they need anything to go elsewhere. We're done."

With that, I walked out, Maggie following right behind, as Diana called after me. I supposed she thought an executive order to sit down should have kept me there.

Gage and Vireem sat against the bulkhead by the door, smoking cigarettes, flicking the ashes into a foam cup containing a splash of water. Diana talked at length to Restic and Holloway, details muted by the steel between us and the conference room. It was silly,

but I fished into my left breast pocket and shook a smoke out of the pack. On a gut level I wanted to show I could puff away in a non-smoking area, too. Badass!

"Well," I said. "What's Fisk want?"

Gage smiled a little, something resembling respect flashing across his eyes. "New terms. He'll be in touch."

Too damn smug. I wanted to stick my foot in Gage's ass, but Vireem just sat there smirking at me. I planted my cigarette in the corner of my mouth, and my disgust must have been too apparent.

"Don't get all salty with us," Vireem said. "We weren't the ones who called your little girlfriend in here. You take that shit up with Holloway. You guys got a rep for bein' a little band of thugs. Got a taste for that airlock, dontcha?"

"Got something to say, freighter jockey why dontcha say it—"

Maggie's fingernails dug into my forearm, pulled me back. "That's enough, specialist," she said. The Respect Rake switch kicked on again, and they backed off, Vireem leaning against the bulkhead as if he owned the place. In a way, he and Gage did.

"Come on, Jay, you're leaving. Now."

I followed her lead and left the Sunshine Boys to their victory. My mind was on fire. We had failed. I was entrusted to fix this mess and all I had to show for it was my girlfriend busting my balls and the realization that everything I had worked for and sacrificed was for an operation built on mud and sand.

I walked past yet another "No Smoking" sign, let my cigarette drop, and crushed it under foot.

One more turn around a corner and we'd be at the airlock. Then, behind us, was the official clacking of dress heels. I knew the voice without even turning.

"Jay! What was that stunt in there?"

Diana's ruddy cheeks shone beneath an ironclad frown. Maggie's brow furrowed and she crossed her arms as Secretary Thalyka gestured at me with one of her folders.

"Jay, you had a real case. You could have walked out of there with compensation, but you just—"

"Let's just pretend this all never happened, okay?"

"Don't bullshit me, Jay! This is about a lot more than parts or booze! Are you going to come clean or—?"

Maggie stepped between us, looked up at me. "Look, we need to leave. Now."

Diana fixed her glare on Maggie, still rolling with that angry momentum. "We need to come clean with what's really going on here. And you, Lieutenant, rest assured I will be contacting the Admiral's office about your abuse of power."

Maggie just blinked, tilting her head quizzically. "You don't get it, do you? Nothing's gonna happen to me over this, and nobody's going to tell you anything you don't already know."

Diana already knew we ran our homemade firewater throughout the fleet, and we reaped the rewards of that in extra food, clothing, and weapons. The cache of guns Phelan gave us before the jump to Kobol was a big reason she was even still alive.

Madame Secretary took a deep breath, tendons standing out on her neck as she won the battle to keep her cool. "Well, I know this. An aide on Colonial One was allergic to standard antibiotics, so someone from the president's office had to barter with some black marketeer to get the pills. This isn't sitting well with President Roslin, and she is not going to let the black market continue. She's meeting with the Admiral and, Lieutenant Edmondson, I am well aware nothing is going to happen to you, given our need for qualified pilots. As for the rest…"

Maggie just stared at her, mouth hanging open.

"Has something I said shocked you, Lieutenant Edmondson?"

She just threw her hands up and shook her head. "No, Madame Secretary. Forget it. You and your boy here can finish this. I'm gonna get the raptor fired up. Banger's probably about to shit himself."

In a few moments, the raptor's engines hummed to life, and I could feel Diana look right through me. I couldn't tell her anything. I had made my promise that kept her alive, and it couldn't be broken now. Fisk was able to nullify Phelan, but that didn't mean the gangster couldn't still hurt Diana. The government was toothless without the military, whether she could accept it or not.

"Do you want to come clean with me, Jay?"

"There're a lot of people I can't make that call for. I think you need to take a long look at the reality of this."

She clutched her folders tightly to her chest, leaned toward me.

"And I think you have to step back and realize that maybe I already have. That maybe I know things you don't think I do. You must be in on some things that are borderline legal at best. I knew that the moment I…the moment that shuttle dumped me on your doorstep after the coup, but you have to get out if you can. This is going to be huge. They're not messing around, Jay. Roslin's going to drop the hammer, and word is the Admiral's backing her."

I looked around, saw no one in sight… I pulled her a little closer, so our foreheads touched. "Baby, it's already way too big, and—"

"Promise me you'll stay out of the way. Hide. Please, Jay, I—"

Banger stuck his head out of the raptor just then. I wasn't sure if his timing was terrible or perfect. "Racetrack says get on or stay."

I nodded, let my woman, the Secretary of Intercolonial Relations, go.

"Please," she said again, this time with no trace of propriety or officially vested power. It was the voice of my lover and only her. "Please protect yourself."

My eyes lingered on her for a moment before I went up the ramp, to be spirited away to the Lady and all the problems I had failed to solve.

V

"Hey, Banger, take the stick. I'm going aft."

Maggie relinquished control to the nugget, then sat down next to me and removed her helmet.

"Banger," she called.

"Yes, sir?"

"Can you hear what I'm saying?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, sir."

"No, you can't."

"But—"

"That's an order, Ensign. Close your mouth and your ears and take the long way."

"Yes, sir!"

If my world wasn't going to hell in all directions, I would have smiled. Maggie radiated as much authority as her little body could hold when she wanted to. She was such a firecracker in contrast to the calm intensity Diana radiated when she went into official mode.

"Look," Maggie told me, her large eyes unwavering and boot-camp serious. "We're not going to have any contact again until this gets resolved, one way or another. It's too damn dangerous, especially for you."

My mouth would not open. I was really frakked. My girlfriend was telling me to hide. Gage and Vireem owned my ass. I had to face everybody on the Lady and tell them we'd have to just suck on this deal gone bad. Oh, yeah, and I'd tell them we'd soon have no choice but to bust our butts just so we could survive. Even in all this mess, the little extras we could get let us live, if just a little bit.

Maggie's expression softened a little. "Come on, don't be like that, okay? This is too damn hot. I shouldn't have even come. I'm in a position where I might have to lie to the Old Man to cover your ass, and I don't want to do that. And I don't want to get you guys in trouble, either."

I just nodded. Everything good was slowly creeping away, clearing a path that led straight to the Pegasus.

"I know. You gotta do what you gotta do," I told her. "I'll try and smooth it over with Diana."

The raptor pilot shook her head, laughing softly. "She's a trip. I couldn't believe what she was saying. I mean, she's gotta know the whole system is frakked up."

I nodded, smiling a little in spite of myself. "She does, but she'll never tell you."

She rose, turned fore. "Great. We had to run into the last political idealist left alive."

"Yeah," I replied. "But she's my idealist."

"More power to you—"

She noted a light on her console before sitting, put on her headset. "This is Racetrack, Pegasus, come back."

Color drained from her face as she listened. At this point, bad news was just another pothole in a road full of them. So what? We had to move forward anyway. The car's suspension falling apart was inevitable so why not keep going?

"Roger that, Pegasus. We should arrive within ten. Racetrack out."

She reached, making sure her seat was still there before sitting, as if reality suddenly shifted a few centimeters to the right. Maggie chewed on her lower lip, took the controls from Banger.

"So, what's up?" I asked her, hoping this could be the one routine event in our day.

She turned her head a little, but didn't look me in the eye.

"I received orders to take you to the Beast."

I sank back against the steel bulkhead, a lump in my throat. Why would he want just me there? Sometimes people had to die in situations like these to send a message—people who weren't too high in the pecking order. My place in that order was all too clear.

VI

I remembered how I felt seeing Galactica when the Lady first jumped to the Ragnar Anchorage, our lone, mighty protector leading us out of the storm, keeping us safe from the Cylons. We turned on ourselves, later, as Tigh sent his marines to tear shit up on the Gideon. After Caff died in the massacre, our last line of defense was a steel behemoth, out of control and waiting to strike at any of us who twitched. Now, as we approached the Pegasus, the helplessness, the dark, hollow chasm inside that I felt then came back. Once again, our lives hung at someone else's whim, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.

I tried to look her in the eye, but my gaze found the canons and missile batteries that jutted out of the Mercury Class Battlestar's hull. I had never seen a Mercury up close before. Caff had mentioned overhauling several during his tour of the Geminon shipyards. Maggie returned to her instruments, and I shivered, wanting to keep thoughts of the dead as far away as possible. No comfort was in sight, as I could only focus on the lives hanging in the balance if I screwed up this meeting.

Two marines with rifles in hand greeted us at the bottom of the ramp. Without so much as a "good afternoon," I was ordered to put my hands against the ship to be searched. After a thorough pat-down, one of the jarheads turned me around by the shoulder to face him.

"Alright, you're clean. Come this way, sir." The word "sir" slid out with a patronizing undercurrent, as if he were a traffic cop at my window for yet another DUI check.

Maggie stepped off the ramp to join me and the other marine raised a gloved hand to stop her. "Sorry, sir. My orders are to bring Jay Krenzik only."

"If it's all the same to you, private," Maggie began, making a point to eye up the chevron on his uniform. "I'd like to join him."

"These are Commander Fisk's orders," he replied, lips twitching in a split-second grin. "Lieutenant Edmondson. You're to resume your duties, the Commander said, and one of ours will return him to his ship."

I had given up thinking my input would mean anything before hitting the flight deck, but I felt as if they were arguing over who got to take Fluffy into the vet. The marines crisply saluted Maggie, and she glared, lazily returning the gesture. She held the pose a breath longer than necessary, then let her arm fall, thereby permitting Fisk's grunts do the same. The raptor pilot took me aside, pulled my ear down to her lips with a tug on my shirt.

"You're not gonna hear from me again 'til this blows over, but if it comes down to it, I do know where you are, okay?"

Her lips upturned in a thin attempt at a smile, and I just nodded before she ascended the ramp.

VII

I walked between both marines, getting the occasional double take from the pilots, deckhands, and officers bustling through the crowded corridors. They guided me into an elevator, and we descended for a moment, then the doors slid open to a strangely quiet level. A black sign with crisp white lettering read "Senior Officers Quarters" with an arrow pointing to my right. Two more marines stood vigil on either side of a hatch, three down from the elevator.

My escorts stood by as the other two grunts told me to spread 'em against the wall, and I was frisked for the second time. After I was deemed safe once more, I was left with Fisk's guards.

"Wait here," I was told, as one of them rapped against the door twice. The voice on the other end radiated an implicit authority.

"Enter."

Unlike what we had, his quarters were sumptuous. Hell, I actually had my own space with a bathroom , but it was a mere closet compared to this. Rich, dark wood, leather couches, glass coffee table, and a wet bar. Commander Fisk's back was to me. He didn't bother to turn around as his meaty hands worked deliberately, mixing a drink.

Antique pistols and other militaria lined the walls, much of it, apparently, belonging to the late Admiral Cain. This room, and the heavy-set man who took his sweet time without saying a word, radiated power. The rumors attached to this ship, this man and the Admiral he replaced leaped to the forefront of my mind--stories of people left to die and go-for-broke raids against toaster with superior numbers. I figured I would probably live through this, as they could have shot me a hundred times over, but it wasn't much comfort. The cubit stopped here. For all Phelan's muscle, he just couldn't take on a battlestar.

"You like your whiskey neat, right?" he asked me.

"Yeah," I said, my voice too soft in my ears. My eyes found a framed photo on the coffee table. A younger and somewhat thinner Fisk stood to the left of a hard-faced but beautiful woman with commander's bars on her full dress uniform. To her other side were two officers I didn't recognize. I looked at who must be the late Cain and remembered colonial vipers converging like angry wasps, and the stories of how she left civilian ships to die after stripping them for parts and useful personnel. She lived here, and she died here, too.

As Fisk turned with two rocks glasses, I asked him, "Is it true? Did you really leave civvies behind?"

Fisk's deeply set eyes were blank as he gestured for me to sit down, then eased back into the seat across from me. The glasses tinked against the table as he set them down.

My eyes wanted to find the floor, but after sticking it out there to him, asking the hardest question, I couldn't reel myself in, now.

"Yes. It's true. Now answer a question for me," he said. "Is it true the crew of the Lady of Libron II spaced a man for mutiny?"

Mangan, that night, had just glared at me as Ed pushed the button, and he was sucked out. Sometimes I still saw him in my mind.

"Yeah. Yeah, we spaced a guy. He tried to kill me and the Secretary of Intercolonial Relations."

I didn't wait for him to sip his drink first, and instead let the whiskey burn down the back of my throat.

"So, basically, even though hindsight showed you that execution might have been hasty, it looked like a good idea at the time, hmmm?"

My skin warmed and I prayed I wasn't sweating. I was out of my league with this guy. He was educated, had seen the worst of what war can bring, and he'd pulled his fair share of rackets. This was smooth and quiet. Only someone with a deft hand in such matters could have done this so quietly.

I considered his question. "Yeah, I… wanted to just wait 24 hours, but yeah. I guess it was. We thought we were alone out there."

Bill Fisk smiled then. "I look at a guy like you and realize we have more in common than you might think."

"Okay. How?"

He gently cradled his glass in one hand, examining the color of the liquor.

"Like you, death was a shot in the arm for my career." He chuckled with a hint of bitterness. "Admiral Cain shot her previous XO in the head, just like you heard. And…" he gestured toward the door. "Right where you stood, a godsdamn toaster murdered her in cold blood."

Nothing embellished with the retelling nor was there a flair for drama; I just got it bare bones from the source. Judging by the way he sat back, undid the top button on his uniform jacket, our little game of truth or truth was a real icebreaker, for him anyway.

I suppressed a shiver, and knocked back what was left in my glass. Since he was supposed to be all about bluntness, I asked the first question that wanted to roll off my tongue.

"Why am I here? You can just have one of the Sunshine Boys drop off a note telling us like it is."

Fisk's eyes narrowed as a smile danced at the corners of his lips. "Right to the point. Good. That means I won't have to break it down into digestible chunks for you."

He leaned toward me, the rich leather creaking as his forearms came to rest on his thighs.

"I'd rather work with you than step on your neck. I've already met with people from the Gideon, Rings of Leonis, Greenleaf, Adriatic, Colonial Movers, among others, and now you. Do you know how much of the civilian alcohol supply the Lady of Libron II provides?"

"Around a third, based on what we ship out every week."

Fisk smiled a little.

"Try half."

I could only just look at him. Sure, I figured we were being lied to about some things, but I remembered what we had to give for Candi's freedom and our protection. Phelan just milked me because he could. He gave up nothing. Sure, we could walk into just about any club on Cloud Nine, or any watering hole on one of the big liners and get a warm welcome. We could fix just about anything, and we kept the good times flowing enough so we could forget sometimes we were huddled together in metal cans as we ran from the toasters. I wondered if Bertrand knew how much our output had been downplayed, and if I had any real friends outside my inner circle.

"Half…" I repeated, the word lingering in the air. Forget the fear factor, I suddenly liked the idea of being in the shadow of the Beast.

Fisk knew he had my interest and continued. "The bottom line is this: you tell Phelan to go frak himself, you are instantly under the protection of the Pegasus and her crew. You get first crack at parts, rations, tools, and other considerations. All you have to do is bring your business to me."

The offer hung between us as if it were something solid to be tasted or touched. I wasn't sure if I would ever get used to answering for many. The bottom line was that I had to say something that could make me look weak. Then I pictured our little piece-of-shit freighter next to Pegasus and figured I couldn't look any weaker to Fisk.

"I gotta bring this to Captain Stengler. I can get him to take it, but it's a respect thing—"

Fisk waved a dismissive hand. "I understand completely. Like I said before, I'll send a more official message with one of my raptors tomorrow. When I get the word the Lady of Libron II is onboard, I'm going to have a sitdown with Phelan and everyone else should fall into line after that."

He stood then and I followed. Fisk extended a hand and I shook it firmly, returning his strength. I remembered my Dad telling me about the importance of a firm handshake before I went out to apply for a summer job at a grocery store. He said it could mean everything. I was glad he died, so he wouldn't have the proof I did that it could also mean absolutely nothing.

I stood in silence between my two marine escorts, not sure how I felt about still being alive, about Fisk treating me with magnanimous respect, unlike Phelan. You sat across from him on the Prometheus, you sat across from a benevolent despot. Of course, it was really just a difference in managerial style. I was still just another gear in the machine.

Stengler, Jeffers, all of them, would be relieved that we weren't just getting bulldozed. Our lives would be pretty much the same, in some cases easier, with all the benefits of a battlestar's protection.

The raptor came, we pledged our loyalty to Commander William Fisk. The pilot produced a heavy metal case, which he prompted me to open there in the cargo hold. I let Stengler have the rightful pleasure of undoing the latches.

"These are compliments of the Commander, Major Garner, and the snipes in engineering," the pilot said.

Inside protective shaped foam were a dozen headsets with microphones and wireless antennae, and a transmission hub. Before the attacks, we had always wanted something like this in place of the antiquated phone and PA system. The new freighters, like the Lady of Libron VI and all five day trippers in the Jenna May fleet had had them. I remembered something Caff had said back then. "We'll get an upgrade when the world ends, probably."

We snapped up our bounty, thankful. The world had ended for us, in one way or another, from the attacks to Caff's death to Kobol. I wondered if we would even recognize the real deal when it came.


End file.
